Harry Potter and the Breathly Bellows
by Masamune CAN
Summary: When a very bored person once rewrote a few chapters of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the teehees, this is what occurred.
1. The Dark Lord Ascending

I'm warning you. DO NOT read this unless you've read the real book, unless you want to read the real book here in parody form. Please review. I love you for it.

CHAPTER ONE

THE DARK LORD ASCENDING

A dark night along the moonlit pass through mountains of neatly cut, high hedges met the clear area that came before all that. Out of the darkness appeared two men with a loud _'pop' _each, coming out of what was seemingly the air itself. They glanced at each other with surprised looks of horror and screamed, casting their wands out and beginning an intriguing duel with one another before stowing the magical sticks back into their sleek robes, panting, after recognizing each other twenty minutes later.

"Severus," greeted the one man greasily.

"Yaxley," nodded Severus Snape, unable to recall the man's first name.

"You have good news, then?" croaked Yaxley.

"Yes," answered Snape simply.

_"PEACOCK!"_ screamed Yaxley suddenly, jumping a literal mile in the air and landing tangled in Snape and a now-crooked hedge. "I- I'm allergic..." he muttered.

Snape stared, non-moving.

"Get off of me."

"Alright, alright..." he obeyed quickly. "He always did do himself well, Lucius... _peacocks..._"

They continued to tread across the pass once more, Snape straightening his robes wordlessly as the gravel crunched beneath their heals.

"So... you learned about Harry Potter's whereabouts?" asked Yaxley slowly, unsure whether to speak just yet after the intimate peacock incident.

"You'll know what I have discovered at the same time of the other Death Eaters and the Dark Lord," snapped Snape irritably. "The question is, did _you _succeed in your mission of infiltrating the Ministry?"

"_That_ was my job?!" choked Yaxley nervously. "I thought I was... kidnapping Richard Simmons?!"

Snape stared again, non-moving.

"Noo," he said, praying for patience. "You were to find a hole in the system."

"You mean, like... _outwit The Man?"_ whispered Yaxley in suspense, eyes wide in hopefulness.

For yet another time, Snape stared at him, unmoving in the slightest. Barely moving his lips, Snape answered, "Yeees."

"Well, I didn't do that either," sneered Yaxley. "What's the Dark Lord going to do about it?"

"Uh, well, maybe, perhaps, just by chance, possibly _kill you_?" thought Snape hardly, racking his brains for the answer. "Duh."

Yaxley lost the little color in his face already. "Oh. Yeah. Who still says 'duh'?"

"It's 1998, Yaxley, you should be used to it by now."

At last they made it over a little hill and saw a large white manor with high fences and things of that sort. They marched through the self-opening gates and grinned nervously at a man sitting girlishly on a random bench before going into the manor doors.

"What was with that guy–" Yaxley was muttering to Snape, his thumb pointing back through the doors at the guy; but he was cut off by a cold, high voice from their side.

"Ah, Severus; Yaxley," said the voice. They turned in synchronization to see Lord Voldemort sitting at the head of a long polished table, glistening under greenish ceiling and grayish silver brick walls. Stylish.

All the other Harry Potter bad guys were sitting at the table too, arranged down the aisle. Bellatrix Lestrange sat by her sister, Narcissa, who was white blond, unlike her sibling, who was heavy-lidded and dark haired. Narcissa was positioned next to her terribly exhausted looking husband and son, Lucius and Draco, who both seemed near death.

"Sit by me," insisted Voldemort girlishly.

Yaxley turned with twinkling eyes, his soul lighting up from the honor of the offer. He aimed his buttocks towards the seat on Voldemort's immediate right, though Voldy directed a spidery-toed foot straight in the target zone as he did. Yaxley leaped back up with a yell of pain and Vold said, "Not you, Yaxley... my great murder of Albus Dumbledore– Snape."

Everyone went, "Oooooh." as Snape stepped forward with a dramatic touch. He took the seat instead as Yaxley stalked to the complete opposite end of the table and sat next to the watery-eyed little nerd, Peter Pettigrew.

"Do you want some of my peanut butter sandwich? I made it myself," squeaked Pettigrew, handing a rather squashed sandwich at him and wheezing heavily. He hacked once on the bread. Yaxley leaned his head in his crossed arms, which he had placed on the polished wood and began to cry.

Above the table was an unconscious woman hanging suspended in the air, upside down and atop the middle of the table directly in front of Draco, who stared in absolute fear into her open, misted, empty eyes. Just to tell you.

"What have you found out for me, Severus?"

"I did the research toy told me to, and yes, Richard Simmons is NOT a man," said Snape on queue. Voldemort snapped his long fingers.

"Knew it!" he muttered. "But what about the boy?"

"I got a leak–"

"To the left," muttered Lucius lowly, pointing over his shoulder. "But the sink isn't a toilet, its a only a golden birdbath. Don't use it, I have before... never fully cleaned out either."

"Not now!" barked Voldemort angrily. His pet snake, large, slithery and mean-looking, Nagini, hissed from his shoulder. "You can tinkle later!"

"Would you people allow me to finish?" sneered Snape vexedly. "I got a leak from the Ministry that Potter will be taking air travel to their new safe place this Friday, night before he turns seventeen and is able to use magic outside of school."

"I know that!" boomed Voldy, though he shifted his eyes as though he had so obviously forgotten the fact. "I hear the Order have suspicions we have infiltrated the Ministry, as well?"

"Well, the Order's got one thing right, eh?" guffawed Pettigrew near Yaxley, choking on a mixture of bread, peanut, butter and phlegm. "Am I right? Eh?" he repeated louder, as though they hadn't heard them.

No one reacted, only rolling their eyes in sync.

"Yees," said the staring Snape coldly. "We are going to ambush Potter, am I right, my Lord? If so, I shall alert you that I have Confunded Mundungus into suggesting a method of Polyjuice Potion to the other members of the clan when they arrive to take the boy to the safe place. They will be taking brooms, a flying motorcycle, threstrals, and krinjatis across the country. He will have six of his friends juiced as himself, looking exactly as him. So yeah..." he finished, panting.

"Well, there went half the book," said Bellatrix exasperatedly. "My cousin married a werewolf. Filth!"

Snape checked his watch as Voldemort thought over his plan. Then he figured it out to himself and faced the body that Draco had been staring at. He flicked his wand and the body floated closer to him. Then he examined his wand with interest.

"It must be me who murders Harry Potter. It's the only way. However, both he and I's wands have the same core, creating a scientific reaction that occurs everytime we meet. I will need to borrow someone else's wand. Lucius, since you will not be needing yours..."

Lucius started and plunged his hand into his robes, retrieving his own wand. Then he hesitated.

"But..."

"Give it here."

He winced as he passed the wand down the table at the evil man. Voldemort exchanged glances between both his and Lucius' new wand. Lucius made in involuntary movement with his hand as though reaching to accept Voldy's wand in exchange for his own. Voldy merely cracked up coldly.

"Yeah... I'm going to give you MY wand, Lucius," he burped.

Lucius slunk under the table in embarrassment as Bellatrix led the rest of the Death Eaters into a rousing chorus of jeers and laughing. "No greater honor!" was all that could be made out coming from Bellatrix. Vold turned to her as the crowd went quiet.

"_No greater honor_... that means a lot coming from _you_," he sneered. Bella obviously misunderstood, as she beamed and lit up.

"Thank you, my lord, thank you so m–"

"I heard that your niece has gotten married with a werewolf," evinced Vold. "So, Draco... would you babysit of the cubs?"

Draco didn't get it. He merely crawled under the table in embarrassment beside his father as the table roared with laughter and Bellatrix sank back into her chair, face dark and saddened. Voldemort silenced the crowd again with a wave of his hand, facing the woman above him again. With a simple flick of his stick, the woman came alive with a gasp.

As Voldy surveyed her, she panted.

"What... where... Severus? Severus, help me!" she cried, spotting Snape next to Vold. "Please..."

Snape ignored her and didn't make eye contact. Instead, Voldemort replied, "He won't be helping you this time... Charity Burbage... Professor of Muggle Studies at Hogwarts; until recently, that is... yes, you taught the children of witches and wizards all about Muggles. How they are not so different from us... how we should get together, have our own mutt children with them... live happily ever after, is that what you thought?"

"Severus, please help me... don't let him... do this to me, this thing... save me, please..."

"Silence!" said Voldemort, his eyes contorted in rage. With yet another flick of his wand, she fell silent, as though gagged. "You tried to pollute the magic in the world with Mudblood lovingness, didn't you? Do not deny it, I read your greasy article on Muggle-faith, and now you will pay for how you have messed with my life's work."

Charity blinked tears from her eyes, them falling into her curtains of hanging hair, and revolved back to Snape through the air. "Please... Severus... remember good times? Please don't let him..."

_"Avada Kedrava."_

The flash of green light illuminated every corner of the room. Charity fell with a resounding crash on the table, which trembled and creaked violently as Draco stared in horror over the edge of the table at the scene, her now lifeless and misty eyes facing him again.

"Dinner, everyone," said Voldemort softly, and everyone picked up their forks and knives, leaning closer to the corpse with their silver plates aloft.

_Deck the stalls of Bethlehem._

- Bah bah bah mooOO hee haa.

_Deck the stalls of Bethlehem–_ oh, hello there. I'm the author. Bye now. (**runs**)


	2. In Memoriam

CHAPTER TWO

IN MEMORIAM

Harry was bleeding. Clutching his scarlet right hand with his left and swearing rather briskly, he kicked a few heavy books out of the way of the door out of his room, only making his toes throb and barely knocking the reserves out of his path at all. He cursed louder.

Finally he managed not to drip his ancestry all over the sickly colored carpet as he placed the blockage of literature away from the doorway and stepped out of it at last. Unfortunately, he had heard a deafening crunch beneath his feet as he trampled out of the heated room and towards the bathroom down the hall. He screamed in pain and, through watery, squinted eyes, spotted the source: a tiny cup of cold tea sitting in a now puddle of dark stain on the carpet, surrounded by the remnants of shattered china.

Grunting in a mixture of frustration and pain, Harry used his left hand to scoop up the china and pull the chunks of bloodied glass out of his feet, throwing them in the bathroom bin on the way in. The china of tea had most definitely been his cousin Dudley's greatest idea of a land mine he could've thought of. It made Harry feel good that later today he would be separated from the Dursleys forever.

With a wince of a stinging sensation, Harry turned the cold water on his pouring finger. The red rinsed easily down the sink, and when it cleared Harry spotted what seemed to be yet another shard of glass stabbed deep into his meat. With yet another grimace his jerked the particle out and stood, trying to shake the nuisance.

He had been unpacking his Hogwarts school trunk for the first time completely in nearly six years. Not once had he gone through it, through all that time. He had merely jerked stuff out when need be and plunged things back in. Toilet tissue wrapped heartily around his still-bleeding forefinger, Harry ventured back into his ruddy room. It was a mess.

A badge that flickered feebly between _Support CEDRIC DIGGORY_ and _POTTER STINKS_ lay forgotten on his bedsheets from his fourth year, next to a potion vial stained with tar-like substance, and a naked picture of his best friend Ron Weasley. Harry stormed to the bed and ripped the picture in half, his gay days long over and done with. He rolled the badge into the trashcan near his bedside table and attempted to scrub the tar out of the vial, though with little success and instead piling the glass on the heap of wadded paper and gum wrappers in the bin as well.

"Well, Hedwig," he addressed his snowy owl, who was rather angry at him for her lack of flight due to the move, and was as of now crammed in her little cage for the ninetieth time in her life. "This is the last time... the last time we have to come home to this mess of a house. Last time we have to sleep in here, last time we have to pack our things. I wonder what Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon will do with all that."

He pointed carelessly to the nearest corner in the room, where the rest of his school books, his Quidditch and normal school robes, his knicker collection, his cauldron, and many other various objects sat in the 'get rid of' stack.

"Probably catch fire to the lot in the dead of night," coughed Harry, now pouring the glistening powder out shattered glass from the bottom carpet of his trunk and onto the floor, where he examined it. After a moment, he reached for his bed again and grabbed five of the bigger pieces of the same glass.

This was the last gift his godfather, Sirius Black, ever gave him before his murder at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange two years ago. He had thought the useless piece of glass would never leave his sight, but now, he thought with a sigh, it was time to throw it out.

Around his neck was yet another useless item that meant something to him: a heavy golden locket with the initials 'R.A.B.' in the middle. It was a fake Horcrux (spirit particle disconnected from) Voldemort himself. The real one was who knows where; he and the old headmaster of Hogwarts Albus Dumbledore had only recently (at the end of the last school year) ventured from the grounds and half-way across the country to a mysterious cave, which inside held a green lake full of Inferi, which were bewitched corpses. In the center of the terrible scene they had traveled, only to find what seemed to be a mystical liquid that Dumbledore was forced to drink to get the valuable part of Voldemort, which they had intended to destroy. Weakened by the potion, Dumble was taken back home by Harry only to be confronted with Death Eaters invading Hogwarts and to meet Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape, Snape who had murdered Dumbledore as Harry lay helplessly paralyzed on the ground under his Invisibility Cloak.

The very memory made Harry shudder and hold back girlish tears, though he spent another two hours piling the things for Hogwarts out and his average life things back in the trunk without word. Finally, it was neatly packed.

"It's a shame I won't be going back to Hogwarts," he told Hedwig, speaking for the first instant in all that time. "But I have to do what Dumble told me to do... find and destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes."

Hedwig screeched annoyingly, sick of Harry. She wished she would just die.

"Hey look, a _Daily Prophet_ I haven't read yet," said Harry, picking up a newspaper from the ground which was protruding halfway out from under his bed. "Let me read it."

Hedwig crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE FORGOTTEN**

by Elphias Doge

_**I met Albus Dumbledore at the age of eleven. I had dragon pox, and I was scheduled to die about five months after that day, and everyone else at Hogwarts treated me like some horrible spotty blotch against the floor, (which I sort of was) except him. We became the best of friends, and thank goodness too, because I haven't made a friend since.**_

_**Albus discovered a cure for dragon pox. He saved my life, and I only hope you ignore books of his false biography such as Rita Skeeter's horrid description of his life, for she considers me in her book as 'a spotted monkey that he spotted when drunk and gave a beer for good looks'. What does that even mean??**_

_**Well, the point of this article is to tell you that Albus was a brilliant man who wished only good on people, and though he died in a tragic way that will never be remembered, (murder, I think) he will never be forgotten in the hearts of those who knew. And as for those who didn't know him, screw you!**_

Harry reached the end and blinked. Some obituary. He had a quick sob and then directed his attention on the trash bin in front of him. On top was the glass mirror. He picked a shard up from the top and stared at himself, green eyed, bespectacled and skinny though tall.

Poor Dumbledore. He had been such a good man. He only wished that he had the wise man to help him extract the hidden Horcruxes from all over the world right now; he was so alone.

A flash of bright blue.

He was still staring deeply at himself through the mirror. Had his eyes tricked him? He couldn't have, no... it wasn't possible. But what if...

Staring hard into the broken glass, he tried to see it again, but with no affect. He whirled to the walls behind him, which was a horrible peach color to Aunt Petunia's choosing. No blue could've reflected... no... he had only been thinking of Dumbledore too hard, and then he had seen his bright blue eye in the mirror out of insanity, that was all.

Urging himself that this was indeed true, Harry spent a last few minutes of his peaceful alone time sitting on his bed, thinking of how he would never truly see the bright blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore piercing him over the peer of half-moon spectacles again.


	3. The Dursleys Departing

CHAPTER THREE

THE DURSLEY DEPARTING

The sound of a front door echoing closed rang up the stairs and a booming voice yelled, "Oi! You!"

Sixteen years of being addressed as thus left Harry in no confusion of who his uncle was calling for. Nevertheless he sat motionless on his bed, still glaring hopefully in the mirror's reflection. Then he heard the pounding of his uncle's footsteps crashing up the stairs and a explosion of fist meeting wood on his door as the voice screamed, "BOY!"

Harry started violently, though overcome his anxiety and quickly crept to the door as his uncle thundered back downstairs, bellowing, "COME!"

With a last fleeting look at his rubbish in the room and the glass sitting on the sheets, he obeyed. Before he knew it, he had skipped all the stairs and landed in the living room, where he met Petunia, Vernon and Dudley Dursley.

"What?"

"Sit down," ordered Uncle Vernon heavily. _"Please..." _he added with much regret and despise towards the word.

Harry did as he was told and sat lazily on the couch, staring up at his relatives boredly.

"What?" he said again.

"I've done it," said Uncle Vernon decisively. "I've finally made up my mind, permanently."

"Great job," yawned Harry, knowing where this was going.

"Yep. I've done it. Stayed up half the night thinking, and no, we will not do it."

Harry knew exactly what he was talking about. For the past four weeks he'd heard of it, his uncle accepting, rejecting, over thinking, thinking over, deciding, changing his mind, twisting and even eating the truth of the present. He merely sighed this time, imagining himself upstairs right now, still staring longingly into the mirror.

"Yep," said Vernon again, standing his full height. "I shall not subject my family to your... LEVEL. We are staying RIGHT HERE."

He then put his thumbs in his pockets and looked impressed with his own decision for virtually no reason at all. Harry began to feel irritated.

"Besides, the fact that you constantly insist we– Petunia, Dudley and I, that is– are in danger from... from..."

"Some of 'my lot'?" suggested Harry impatiently.

"Well... yes! This Lord Moldywart or whatever–"

"Lord Voldemort!" exclaimed Harry, his temper on the edge.

"Whatever," repeated Vernon. "Well, I believe its only a scheme to get the house."

Harry stared.

"The... WHAT HOUSE?"

"THIS house!" barked his uncle, a vein in his temple starting to pulse. "OUR house! House prices are skyrocketing, and I believe you're trying to get us out of the place so you can attempt some _hocus-pocus _and next thing we know, the deeds are to you!"

Harry stared again.

"Are you out of your mind?" he demanded. "A plot to get the house... are you really as stupid as you look?"

"Don't you dare–" began Aunt Petunia, but Vernon waved her into silence. Slights on personal appearance didn't seem to be a matter just now.

"I already HAVE my own house," Harry said, gritting his teeth. "My godfather left one to me. Why would I want this one? All the happy memories?"

He and his uncle's eyes met. Harry believed he had impressed him with his argument.

"You can't just continue _wave off_ everything that's going on! The recent deaths, the disappearances on the news, ALL OF IT, it's all _him_! When the charm my mother put on me– and you, and Aunt Petunia, and Dudley– wears off, Voldemort is going to be exposed to the house, and he's going to see where I've been all these years! And the first people he's coming after..." –Harry paused for a dramatic touch– "... is you!"

Uncle Vernon stood stricken, Aunt Petunia whimpered slightly and Dudley didn't seem to have heard any of them talking yet.

"S... so. That's it then," said Harry slowly. "If you want to stay here in this preppy neighborhood, risk your skins and wait for Lord Voldemort to come and kidnap you, thinking I'll come save you from him" –he and his uncle exchanged dark glances, both of them wondering the same thing– "then you've got it, go right on ahead."

Harry waited impatiently for any of them to say something.

"You say that... the deaths... the disappearances... its all because of this hoodlum that's after you?" asked his uncle unsurely. "Well, I don't see why we can't go with that Kingsley fellow, all dressing like a normal and escorting the Prime Minister... why can't we have him?"

"I've told you a dozen times," growled Harry, patience dwindling. "He's taken– either you have him go with you, or your Prime Minister gets murdered next. Dedalus Diggle will be happy to take you to the safe place, he's in the Order also."

"And what was this Order again?" asked Petunia testily.

"I've repeated this definition as well," sighed Harry. "It's the resistance against Voldemort... its meant to protect you, Muggles, (normal people, that is) against him, as it is for us magical people."

"I thought there was a Ministry of Magic," interjected Vernon abruptly. "What about them? I believe as innocent people having been forced to harbor a nation-wide criminal for sixteen years" – Harry believed he was referring to him. However, he was very impressed that Uncle Vernon had remembered how long Harry had lived with them...– "we should get government protection!"

"I've told you this as well... the Ministry has been infiltrated by Voldemort's people, Death Eaters. This guy is everywhere, you have to be careful! The dementors were on Ministry control as well, but didn't they just attack your son two years back? I can't really remember- didn't something happen where I used illegal magic to protect him from them? Lets just ask Dudley himself."

Dudley seemed to have finally begun to pay attention when the word 'dementor' had been said. He looked very frightened and looked smaller (which was really saying something).

"M-mum, dad, I-I'm going with these Order people," he announced.

The battle was won. If iddy-biddy Diddykins was going with the people, then all the people were going with the people. You know what I'm saying? Of course you do.

The doorbell then rang and two masked people flew in on broomsticks. One was a female, as Harry noticed when she flew over him. The other was a male, as Uncle Vernon noticed when he crashed his broom into the fireplace and tumbled out of his robes completely, landing on Dudley, naked.

"Hello, Harry Potter's relatives!" he squeaked breathlessly, brandishing his wand in Dudley's face. "Aren't you Muggles?"

"That's it!" yelled Uncle Vernon, throwing his hands in the hand. "I'm not going!"

"Vernon, I'm going with Dudley," was Aunt Petunia's decision. Vernon roared in anger, though didn't storm away like he had been going for. Instead, he plopped on the couch next to Harry, arms crossed. By the time they all turned back to Dedalus Diggle and Hestia Jones, they were re-clothed and their brooms were set neatly against the kitchen table.

"Yes, yes... we're on a tight schedule. Say your goodbyes and... do you know how to drive, sir?" Diggle directed his attention on Uncle Vernon curiously.

"Do I know how to– of course I know how to ruddy drive!" barked the radish in some subspecies between vegetable and dog.

"Oh good... because I would personally be utterly bamboozled by all those buttons and knobs," muttered Diggle, apparently under the opinion that he was flattering the outraged looking Vernon.

"Doesn't even know how to drive..."

"Well, say your goodbyes, then," said Hestia. "We'll leave so you can exchange your possibly tearful goodbyes."

"There's no need," said Harry.

"Well. This is it, boy," said Uncle Vernon, straightening up. "Good-bye."

He attempted to hold out his hand for a final shake, though in the end couldn't face it and merely turned his back on his nephew, heading out the door with his suitcase at hand.

"But..." said Dudley, trying his hardest to comprehend the situation. "... why isn't he coming with us?"

He pointed to Harry. Uncle Vernon emerged from outside again, surprised.

"W-what?" he asked, utterly bamboozled.

"Why isn't Harry coming with us?" repeated Dudley.

Uncle Vernon exchanged glances with his wife, who looked as confused as he did. Harry was touched.

"Well... he... he doesn't want to... do you?" Vernon asked Harry.

Harry had a sudden urge to run and hug them all. Why did it seem as though, despite the evil and cruelty these people had given him for so many years, that he was losing his only childhood family? A brother, Dudley... a talking radish, Uncle Vernon... Mr. Ed, the horse in a dress... (Aunt Petunia)...

"Not... not really, no," Harry belched.

Dudley thought a bit more harder as Vernon clapped his hands together and said, "Well, it's settled, Dudley. He doesn't want to come."

And he marched back out the door, obviously accomplished feeling. When no one followed him again, he came back in, purple-faced.

"NOW WHAT?"

It seemed that Dudley was struggling with concepts too difficult to put into words. After a few more moments of internal struggle he said, "But where's he going to go?"

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked at each other. It was clear that Dudley was frightening them. Hestia broke the silence.

"But... surely you know where your nephew's going?" she asked incredulously.

"Lets just go," suggested Vernon desperately. "He's going off with some of their lot, Dud, so come on!"

"OUR lot?" heaved Hestia angrily. "Don't you know what this boy has been through?"

"It doesn't matter–" said Harry hastily.

"How important he is to the lives of so many? He is the one who has to save us all from Lord Voldemort, and here you raise him, no goodbyes, no anything– is this how they always treat you, Harry?"  
"Er– yeah, pretty much. But it doesn't matter! They've always considered me a waste of space."

"I don't think your a waste of space."

If Harry hadn't seen his lips move, he would have never imagined that he would've ever said it. Dudley stood there, quite at awe with himself as well as everyone else was. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and leaped into her humongous son's shoulder, proud of him.

"SUCH A LOVING BOY, SAYING THANK YOU–" she weeped.

"THANK YOU?!" growled Hestia. "He only said–"

"Yeah, I know," said Harry incredulously. "But for Dudley, saying 'your not a waste of space' is like saying 'let's get married, I love you.'"

Dudley broke apart from his mother and took two huge, quivering steps up to Harry. He held out a piggy palm.

"Good-bye, Harry," he said. "Sorry about all those times I– you know– beat you up; tried to kill you and things like that."

Harry couldn't help but grinning. "It's... it's been fun enough, Big D. See you."

"Hopefully."

They embraced deeply. The hand shake came after the hug, and even Dedalus burst in the middle of the two cousins, hoping for some loving as well. However, the moment was over, and Dudley finally followed his father out of the house for the final time.

Aunt Petunia wiped the last tear from her eye and turned to Harry and the two magical beings, apparently confused at how she had become the final person left with them.

"Well... good-bye," she said stiffly. With a last glance at her beloved kitchen, she strode to the door.

"Good-bye, Aunt Petunia," said Harry.

She stopped. She turned back to him, and with a fleeting look, it seemed that she wanted to say something further. But she didn't; she merely turned back away and followed her son and husband out to the car.


	4. The Seven Potters

CHAPTER FOUR

THE SEVEN POTTERS

Harry ran back upstairs and danced. He skipped to Dudley's computer and began to play video games on it at a frantic rate, won Crash 6197, then he rushed to the east and ate treats. He was joyous. It was over; his Dursley days. The times he had been trapped in his room, dead-locked in... done. Finally. So many years he'd waited for this moment. He kicked in joy.

He pooped in the living room. And there was no Aunt Petunia to scold him and clean it up, either. He was just cheerful. He peed in the sink. Then in a teacup. Still, no Uncle Vernon stood gritting his teeth behind him.

At last, he ran out of excrement to excrete and merely cried until he heard pops from outside and ran to greet the wizards who'd arrived in the backyard. Ewww.

Wrenching the door open, Harry hurtled himself into their midst. There was a general cry of greeting as Hermione flung her arms around him, Ron clapped him on the back and Hagrid said, "All righ', Harry? Ready fer the off?"

"The what?" said Harry, beaming around at them all. "But I wasn't expecting this many of you!"

"Change of plans," growled Mad-Eye, who was holding two enormous, bulging sacks and whose magical eye was spinning from the darkening sky to house to garden with dizzying rapidity. "Let's get undercover before Voldemort appears, now.."

Harry led them back in, trying to lead them away from the heap he'd left on the carpet and attempting to directing their attention away from the fizzing substance in the sink still. They sat down around the living room, all but Hagrid, who stood up by it and hunched over to avoid hitting the ceiling fan.

There they were. Ron, long and lanky; Hermione, bushy-haired and stupid; Lupin, gray; Mad-Eye, mean; Hagrid, tall and beetle bug eyed; Fred and George, grinning identically; Bill and Fleur, married and blond and red-haired and different in a lot of ways; Dib, large-headed and wearing glasses, bolted haired and beautiful; Mundungus Fletcher, bloodhound eyed, gay and scrawny; Tonks, pink-haired; and a bunch of others I can't remember. Mr. Weasley too.

"Yep. That's us," said Fred, pointing at that paragraph.

"Wotcher, Harry," said Tonks brightly, brandishing a finger at him. "Look. Me and Remus got married."

Sure enough a ring was there. "Who's Remus?" asked Harry. Lupin waved. "Oh, yeah."

"So... the magical groupies are back together again!" growled Moody. "Let's get to business. We're taking you by broom, threstral and Hagrid's motorcycle to Tonk's parents. We've done it so that Voldy's confused if whatever, yadda yadda, you get it. But we'll need some hair."

Moody removed a mud-filled flask from his waist bag, girlish giggle and held out a hand for hair. Harry understood immediately, and backed away from them all.

"No," said Harry. "I am NOT letting you all pretend to be me as to trick Voldemort away from the real me. I'd rather die."

"I told them you'd react this way," said Hermione, the freaking know-it-all.

"If you think I'm going to let five people risk their lives–"

"Six," corrected Mr. Weasley.

"– because it's the first time for all of us," said Ron.

"This is different, pretending to be me–"

"Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry," said Fred earnestly, "Imagine if something went wrong and we were all stuck as specky, scrawny gits forever."

Harry did not smile.

"You can't do this if I don't cooperate, you need me to give you the hairs."

"Well, that's the plan scuppered," said George in realization. "Obviously there's no chance at all of us getting a bit of your hair unless you cooperate!"

"Yeah, thirteen of us against one bloke who's not allowed to use magic; we've got no chance," coughed Fred.

"Funny," burped Harry, "really amusing."

"If it has to come to force, then it will," farted Moody, his magical eye now quivering a little in the socket as he glared at Harry. "Everyone here's overage Potter. Excluding Hermione and Ron, but who cares of them?"

"But–"

Moody then whirled down to his leg and pulled the peg out of his stump, then he came back to eye-level with Harry and brandished it threateningly. Harry grimaced in fear and muttered, "Okay, okay..."

Reconnecting his leg, Moody accepted the hairs Harry handed over from a mysterious zone. (his back)

"Here we go then," said Moody, dropping the jet black hairs into the potion. It fizzled like Snoop Dogg and totally turned clear bright gold.

"You look tasty, Harry," said Tonks in a personable tone.

"... Thanks?"

"Right then, fake Potters, line up over here," said Moody, pointing with his thumb.

Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Fleur lined up in front of Aunt Petunia's gleaming sink.

"What ez zis yellow stuff in ze sink?" cried Fleur, who was French.

"Er..." said Harry uncertainly. He was saved by Lupin.

"We're one Harry short."

"Here," said Hagrid gruffly, and he lifted Mundungus by the scruff of the neck and dropped him down beside Fleur.

"I toldjer, I'd sooner be a protector," hissed Mundungus, kicking in a fit.

"Shut it," growled Moody. "You're going to be a Harry, because if you were a protector, then we'd all be doomed."

Mundungus crossed his arms and looked stricken, though said no more.

Moody then pulled out half a dozen eggcup-sized glasses from in his knickers and handed them out after pouring some of the transfiguration potion, Polyjuice, which contained the Harry hairs, to each person.

And they all turned into Harry.

"Right," said Moody, unconcerned by the room full of seven Harry Potters.

Fred and George turned to look at each other. Both gave expressions of awe as they exclaimed, "Wow– we're identical!"

"I dunno, though, I still think I'm better looking than George," said Fred, examining his reflection in the kettle.

"Bah," said Fleur, looking at herself too. "I'm 'ideous."

Harry felt really reassured on his appearance after the fest. Everyone made various comments for about twenty minutes concerning how bad his eyesight really was, and how terrible he looked.

"I'm telling you all now," warned Harry cheekily as they all changed into clothes that fit, provided by Moody, "if I see _any of you _looking down your pants for a curious glance, I'm going to– "

"Wow!" cried Hermione, looking down her pants.

"Never mind, then..." muttered Harry, embarrassed.

Next thing he knew, Fred, George, Ron, Mr. Weasley and even Tonks were looking down their pants, all exclaiming, "Wow!"

"Enough with this perverted stuff!" barked Moody at last, though Harry was sure he'd just been looking down in his own knickers. "Take a stuffed owl and march outside."

They all put on round glasses that matched Harry's and went outside with a cage of beanie baby styled Hedwig.

"Yer goin' wit me," announced Hagrid, his thumbs in his pockets. He pointed to his flying motorbike on the lawn.

"Is that Sirius' old bike?" asked Harry. "The one he gave to you the night my parents died?"

"Yep," said Hagrid proudly. "Greatest memory I ever knew. Come on then, in the sidecar... yeh ruddy..."

He continued to bad-mouth Harry until he stopped.

"Let's go now. Lift off!"

And they flew away. Harry watched with his over-sized helmet on Privet Drive until it was miles away. Then he turned and smiled, bugs flying into his mouth and Hedwig's cage between his legs. His Firebolt was under him, which was uncomfortable indeed.

Suddenly, black, cloaked figures appeared all around them. Death Eaters.

"ARGH!" screamed Hagrid, and he pressed a red 'Do Not Touch' Switch. In an explosion of fire, the motorcycle spurt forward with incredible speed. Harry had trouble keeping hold as the Death Eaters pursued close behind, shooting green lights from their wands.

"AAAAGGAGAGAHH!" screamed Hagrid again.

Harry tried to keep hold of Hedwig, who was hooting violently. Screams, a blaze of green light from every side: Hagrid gave another yell and the motorbike rolled over in midair. Harry lost any sense of where they were: Streetlights above him, yells around them, he was clinging to the sidecar for dear life. Hedwig's cage, the Firebolt, and his rucksack slipped between his knees–

"No– HEDWIG!"

The broom fell to the earth, but he managed to seize the rucksack by the strap and the top of the cage right up again. A seconds relief later, then another burst of green light swept through the air, by his hand, and into Hedwig's cage. She screeched and fell to the floor of the hutch.

"No– NO!"

The motorbike zoomed forward, and Harry glimpsed the Death Eater that had shoot her. Dib.

"Hedwig– _Hedwig–_"

But she was gone. His terror washed over him; his loyal companion, his only pet ever... it couldn't be... how could the author do this to him?

"Hagrid, we have to go back! My Firebolt fell!"

"My job's ter get yeh there safely, Harry," bellowed Hagrid over the chaos. He pressed the button again and they burst forward in more flames.

Harry whipped out his wand and pointed to the earth, bellowing, "ACCIO FIREBOLT!"  
To his slight relief and J.K. Rowling's despise, the broom came back through the air at him. He caught it and stuffed it more firmly up his buttocks' grasp, who both clung firmly this time, and he turned around, wand aloft.

"SLAPPYAFACA!" he yelled, and an invisible hand began to slap a Death Eater, who screamed and fell to the earth. "HA!"

The Death Eater who had killed Hedwig flew by his left eye, and Harry whirled his wand on him. "CRUCIO!" he said illegally.

The Eater shrieked in pain and died too. Yay.

"HAGRID! THEY KILLED HEDWIG!" alerted Harry, sobbing and staring at her feathery body.

"I really don't care, Harry," roared Hagrid. "Just at this mo' I'm kinder busy."

But a killing curse hit the side of the motorbike, which rolled over yet again. Hagrid was falling from the bike.

"NO! NO!!" shrieked Harry. Then he realized he was falling too, Hedwig's cage floating into oblivion...

"ACCIO FIREBOLT AGAIN!" he screeched, and it came hurtling through the air and in his buttock's hold. "ACCIO HAGRID!"

Hagrid came hurtling at him this time, and then Harry looked up to see a blue curse flaring at them.

"EXPELLIARMUS!"  
The curse was redirected, but he heard someone yell, "WE'VE FOUND THE REAL HARRY! CALL HIM NOW!"  
Harry screamed. Hagrid was too much weight for the Firebolt to carry, and the motorcycle was driving on its own through the air...

"ACCIO BIKE!"

A tricycle flew up through the air from a Muggles house below. The world exploded. Harry kicked the tricycle back to earth as the Firebolt shook violently against the pressure and Hagrid began to stir.

"Harry, wha' happened?"

"Not now!" cried Harry. "ACCIO FLYING MOTORCYCLE!"

The Flying Motorcycle flew down at them, and the Firebolt lowered further to the ground as more killing curses flew through the air...

"HAGRID!"  
A green jet had caught Hagrid on the back. Harry tried to pull the half-giant up off the broom and back onto the bike, but it was too late. Hagrid's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he too was gone.

"NOOOO!" cried Harry dramatically. "THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN IN THE REAL BOOK!"

Then, Voldemort appeared above, floating with his dark cloak billowing through the clouds. He pointed his wand at Harry...

But Harry's wand lifted itself up and shot a beam of golden light into Voldy's eyes. Voldemort shrieked in blindness and everyone... the Death Eaters and Voldemort... vanished. Harry turned around and saw that they were near the ground and he grunted in pain and he and Hagrid's body fell into grass in front of a cozy little house, leaving mounds of dirt all around.


	5. Fallen Warrior

CHAPTER FIVE

FALLEN WARRIOR

Hagrid?"

No. Hagrid was not dead. He couldn't be.

A man scurried from the house and grasped Harry by the scruff of the neck, examining he and Hagrid with one glance.

"HONEY!" he bellowed over his shoulder with a woeful voice.

Harry weeped loudly. "HAGRID! HE WAS SHOT WITH A KILLING CURSE, HE'S DEAD!"

"It's okay, boy, your safe now," said the man worriedly. "I'm Ted Tonks. I'm Nymphadora's father."

"Good," sobbed Harry, shaking his hand.

"You _are _the real Harry, aren't you?" asked Ted, but the next thing Harry knew was blackness...

"Potter's been out for like, only ten minutes," said a male's voice from somewhere to his life. "Molly shouldn't worry too much..."

"Well, I think he'll be glad when he wakes."

Harry slowly lifted his head, feeling eerily groggy and looked around with squinted eyes. "Where...? Where's Hagrid!?"

The reality crashed over him. Hagrid had been shot. He was down... but just then, as Harry placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose, he saw a woman entering the room behind Ted.

"YOU!" he bellowed, reaching into his jean pocket for his wand. But nothing was there. "YOU'RE BELLATRIX LESTRANGE!"

"No," replied the woman calmly. "That's my sister. I'm Andromeda Tonks."

As she came nearer, Harry relaxed more and more, noticing her physical appearances traits were less defined as she moved closer into sight. God, he was blind. She, like her sister, had heavy lids, and though her black hair was exactly the same shade, her face held a calm sweetness so unlike her murdering sister's.

"He's fine, boy," said Andromeda unexpectantly. "He made it."

Harry blinked in confusion. "Who? Oh, _Hagrid_?! _What!?_ How could he have– ? The curse! I saw it hit him!"

"Well, if you want him dead, here's a bat," said Ted, handing one to Harry from the side of the room.

Harry rejected it and asked again, "What happened?"  
"He's part giant, Harry," said Andromeda. "The killing curse can't penetrate his skin like us humans and other creatures. It's too thick. It merely knocked him out."

"Really? I bet that gave the readers fright though, when I bellowed, 'HE'S DEAD,' then," said Harry sheepishly.

"Yeah, it did. Well, you can go visit Hagrid now. He's awake."

"Really?" Harry tossed the covers from his belly and flew into the next room, where the giant was playing checkers with his own big toe.

"CHECK MATE!" called Hagrid, then he saw Harry and laughed heartily. Harry laughed with him. Life was good. Except for Hedwig. HA. Life was gone for her. Har har hardy ho.

"You shall take this shoe to the Burrow," said Ted, who appeared near the doorway next to Harry. "It is a magic transportation tool, a Portkey."

"We know!"

Arms crossed, Ted then threw the little red shoe at Harry and Hagrid, who were then poofed into the Burrow. That was abrupt.

Next thing Harry knew, he and Hagrid were at the Burrow, knocking loudly on the kitchen door as Hagrid leaned over as far as he could in hopeless attempt to take cover over his huge size. Then the door swung open and they came in to the plump Mrs. Weasley and long, red-haired Ginny sitting at the table.

"Oh, Harry!" said Ginny, running to hug him as Hagrid squirmed through the doorway behind him. "Hello, Hagrid."

"Erk," said Hagrid gruffly.

"Is anyone else here yet?" asked Harry immediately.

"W-why, no. Did something happen?" said Mrs. Weasley, looking worried.

"Yes, something happened! We were attacked by Death Eaters as soon as we lifted off... I don't know whether any of the others are okay!"

Mrs. Weasley looked frightened as Harry turned with a quick idea to Hagrid.

"YOU KNOW WHAT'LL BE COOL?!" he barked excitedly.

"WHAT?!" boomed Hagrid, game.

"IF I HID IN THE CLOSET FROM THE OTHERS WHEN THEY CAME! THEN YOU TOLD THEM I DIED!" screamed Harry.

"GREA' PLAN!"

And before either Ginny or Mrs. Weasley could say anything more, Hagrid and launched Harry into the closet and slammed the door shut. Minutes passed in the darkness before Harry heard the kitchen door open again and two people came in.

"It's Ron and Tonks!"

Seconds later...

"It's Bill and Fleur!"

Then...

"It's Hermione and Kingsley!"

And then...

"It's Lupin and– George?"

"What happened to George!?"

"GEORGE?!"  
"OH LORD!"  
"Its his ear– it's been cut off!" came Mrs. Weasley's voice. "Drag him in here, I'll clean him up!"

"BLOOD EVER'WHERE!"

"Calm down, Hagrid."

"NEV'R!"

Then...

"It's Mr. Weasley and Fred!"

"Sorry I'm late– we've been betrayed!" said Mr. Weasley agitatedly. "Someone let Voldemort know we were going tonight– we saw him! Then he disappeared after we saw Severus Snape cut off George's ear with that bloody _Sectumspra _curse. Meanie."

"Why isn't Harry back with you, Hagrid?" asked Lupin.

"He... he died," said Hagrid tearfully. "Dropped him off o' the bike when I saw You-Know-Who."

"You liar!"

"No!"

Hermione was heard bursting into tears as Ron weeped loudly. Harry cackled behind the heaps of clothes that surrounded him and smelled of weasels.

"We also have another loss," said Lupin softly, and Harry could tell he had his hat off. Did he even wear a hat? Well, it sounded like it. "Moody was struck with the _Avada Kedrava _straight in the chest. Fell off of his broom and we couldn't retrieve him. Mundungus fled."

"That mole!"

"That cockroach!"

"That meanie!"

"He must have betrayed us," said Ron darkly. "And now Harry's dead."

"I was on'y jokin' yeh, Harry's in the closet," said Hagrid, truly tearful over Moody's loss. Harry found this as his queue to exit the closet, so he rolled out and met the strangled cries of fright utter from everyone.

"HARRY!"

"NOT FUNNY," laughed Lupin to Hagrid, throttling him.

"STOP IT STOP! IT WAS HARRY's IDEA!"

They all settled around George, who was surrounded by Fred and Mrs. Weasley, all the blood disappeared and nothing but a gapping hole left in his head. He was stirring.

"George! Are you alright?"

"How do you feel?"

George coughed. "Like a saint."

"What?" asked Fred nervously, praying for his twin's sanity.

"Saint. Like a saint."

"Oh God, he's speaking gibberish! He's a goner!" exclaimed Fred with a renewed sob of misery.

"No. I feel like a saint. Holey. Get it? Hole-y. I have a missing ear," informed George.

"Really?" asked Ron.

"Oh come on, brother," said Fred boredly. "Of every ear joke in the world you use 'holey'? Pathetic."

"Sorry, I'm a little ear-itated."

"Quit it!"

George now awake and feeling good, Harry handed out butterbeers to all who wished for one. They uncorked the bottles in sync and drank deeply after raising them to the ceiling and rumbling, "To Moody."

"To Moody," echoed Hagrid a second later then everyone else.

"Well. I'm bored now."

"Let's go to bed. Tomorrow I think it'll be safe to go out of the barrier zone and look for Moody to bury properly," said Bill.

"He was a good leader," said Mr. Weasley, nodding morbidly.

"Has a wand ever used magic on its own?"

Harry's question had been so abrupt it surprised he even. He'd only just remembered of how his wand had blasted light into Voldemort's eyes long enough for him to safe the day again without dying.

"A wand cannot use magic on its own, Harry, it needs a caster, so there... now shut up."

Harry obeyed.

"Well, why did Voldemort know I was the real Harry?" he asked, noticing that everyone was their normal appearances now.

"Who knows. Now go away."

And he did.


End file.
